A Trip with the Tycoon. Nicola Marsh

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘WHAT the hell are you doing here?’

      Ethan grinned at Tamara’s shell-shocked expression as he strolled towards her on the platform at Safdarjung Station.

      ‘You mean here as in New Delhi or here as in this station?’

      Her eyes narrowed, spitting emerald fire. ‘Don’t play smart with me. Why are you here?’

      ‘Business. I told you I’m a workaholic. The Delhi chef wasn’t interested so there’s a chef in Udaipur I’d like to lure to Ambrosia. Rather than commute by boring planes I thought I’d take the scenic route, so here I am.’

      By her folded arms, compressed lips and frown, she wasn’t giving an inch.

      ‘And this business trip just happened to coincide when I’m taking the trip. How convenient.’

      ‘Pure coincidence.’

      He couldn’t keep the grin off his face, which only served to rile her further. That smile may well have seduced every socialite in Melbourne, but she wasn’t about to succumb to its practised charm. He laid a hand on her arm; she stiffened and deliberately stepped away.

      ‘If it makes you feel any better, it’s a big train and the trip only lasts a week.’

      ‘It doesn’t make me feel better.’

      If the Tamara he’d seen all too infrequently over the last few years was beautiful, a furious Tamara was stunning—and vindicated why he’d booked this trip in the first place.

      It was time.

      He was through waiting.

      ‘Why don’t we stop quibbling and enjoy this fanfare?’

      He thought she’d never relent but, after shooting him another exasperated glare, she turned towards their welcoming committee.

      ‘Pretty impressive, huh?’

      She nodded, maintaining a silence he found disconcerting. He preferred her annoyed and fiery rather than quiet and brooding.

      Only one way to get her out of this huff. Turn on the charm.

      ‘Just think, all this for you. Talented musicians playing tabla as you board the train, young Indian girls placing flower garlands around your neck, being greeted by your own personal bearer for your carriage. Nothing like a proper welcome?’

      The beginnings of a smile softened her lips as a bearer placed a fancy red turban on his head as a gift.

      ‘Looks like I’m not the only one getting welcomed.’

      He wobbled his head, doing a precarious balancing act with the turban and she finally laughed.

      ‘Okay, you can stay.’

      He executed a fancy little bow and she held up a hand.

      ‘But remember I like being on my own.’

      He didn’t. Being alone was highly overrated and something he’d set about compensating for the moment he’d had his first pay cheque or two.

      He liked being surrounded by people, enjoyed the bustle of a restaurant, thrived on the hub of the business world and relished dating beautiful women. Most of all, he liked being in control. And, finally, this was his chance to take control of his desire for Tamara.

      He’d kept his distance while Rich was alive, had respected his friend’s marriage. But Rich was gone and his pull towards this incredible woman was stronger than ever.

      He wanted her, had wanted her from the first moment they’d met and had avoided her because of it.

      Not any more.

      That impulsive kiss had changed everything.

      He’d forfeited control by giving in to his driving compulsion for her, hated the powerlessness she’d managed to wreak with her startling response, and he’d be damned if he sat back and did nothing.

      Having her walk away had left her firmly in charge and that was unacceptable. He was here to reclaim control, to prove he couldn’t lose it over a woman, beautiful as she may be.

      Seduction was one thing, but finding himself floundering by the power of a kiss quite another.

      Clawing his way to the top had taught him persistence, determination and diligence. When he wanted something in the business world, he made it happen by dogged perseverance and a healthy dose of charm.

      Now, he wanted Tamara.

      She didn’t stand a chance.

      Tapping his temple, he said, ‘I’ll try to remember. But, you know, this heat can play havoc with one’s memory and—’

      ‘Come on, let’s board. Once you’re safely ensconced in the lap of luxury, maybe that memory will return.’

      ‘You make me sound like a snob.’

      ‘Aren’t you? Being Australia’s top restaurateur and all.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Oh, that’s right. You’re just the average run-of-the-mill billionaire who happens to rival Wolfgang Puck and Nobu for top restaurants around the world. Nothing snobby about you.’

      ‘Come on, funny girl. Time to board.’

      She smiled and, as he picked up their hand luggage and followed the porter, he could hardly believe the change in Tam.

      Sure, there was still a hint of fragility about her, the glimpse of sorrow clinging to her like the humidity here, but it looked as if India agreed with her. After she’d finished berating him, she’d smiled more in the last few minutes than she had in the odd times he’d seen her.

      ‘You know I have my own compartment?’

      She rolled her eyes. ‘Of course.’

      ‘I wouldn’t want you compromising my reputation.’

      She smiled again and something twanged in the vicinity of his heart. She’d had the ability to do that to him from the very beginning, from the first time he’d met her—an hour after she’d met Richard, worse luck.

      She’d been smitten by then, with eyes only for the loud, larger-than-life chef, and he’d subdued his controlling instincts to sweep her away.

      Neither of them had ever known of his desire for the woman he couldn’t have; he’d made sure of it. But keeping his distance was a thing of the past and the next seven days loomed as intriguing.

      ‘Your reputation is safe with me. I’m sure all those society heiresses and vapid, thin models you date on a revolving-door basis are well aware this boring old widow is no competition.’

      ‘You’re not boring and you’re certainly not old.’

      As for the women he dated, there was a reason he chose the no-commitment, out-for-a-good-time-not-a-long-time type. A damn good one.

      The smile hovering about her lips faded as fast as his hopes to keep it there.

      ‘But I am a widow.’

      And, while he’d hated the pain she must’ve gone through after Rich died, the struggle to get her life back on an even keel, he couldn’t help but be glad she was now single.

      Did that make him heartless? Maybe, but his past had taught him to be a realist and he never wasted time lying to himself or others. Discounting the way he’d kept his attraction for Tam a secret all these years, of course.

      ‘Maybe it’s time you came out of mourning?’

      He expected